#the heat in my room was physically making me ill i shit you not

[scenegirlshooter2]

Alright whatever man

[miruac]

dating tenya iida headcanons - part four

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warnings: not proofread!!!! also afab reader?? period mentions

a/n: GUYS...DID YOU MISS ME...🤪 should totally be studying rn BUT HERE WE GOOO(i think im gonna fail my test)

taglist: @yumejoshihimejoshi

where were we OH YEAH OKAY so basically, when you guys come home from the break, he literally carries in all your things wowww what a gentleman

ok back to general hcs bc i get too carried away with storylines

everyone writes iida as like someone who doesnt have access to technology but he sure as hell does

i feel like he would barely understand brainrot or he knows what they all mean bc he gets curious and goes on a deep dive

nontheless when you hear him skibidi in such a serious voice you literally choke on your spit im SERIOUS 😭

if you wanted to do a silly little tiktok trend he would do it with you but obv not the ones that are like "sending my man a spicy picture and posting his reaction" BC THATS LITWRALLT SMTH PRIVATE AND PEOPLE SHOULDNT POST THAT???(sorry guys im a bit passionate about this)

he tries to dance but hes so...stiff....

but its okay!!! he makes it up by spoiling you

idk if i wrote it before but hes such a good HUGGER

obv at first he's stiff, but HES SO BEEFY

my logic is muscle = beef = pillow

god its so...omg im drooling...like he's so soft when he relaxes...his hugs are so tight...i love them...

hes also so warm wtf like in winter youre literally clinging onto him

prolly bc he has to keep moving so his engines dont stall when its too cold outside

this boy is a workaholic someone save him

you physically have to drag him away from his work and give him some tea or snacks

he gets all grumpy when you do but hes eternally grateful bc he'd spiral and probably pull all nighters like in a row

i think i alr wrote about this but when iidas sleepy, HE GETS CLINGYYYY

god its so cute like when you guys are cuddling before bed and hes all sleepy, hes like a big baby i wanna hold him and kiss all over his face AHHHH

hes a snorer. im sorry. have you guys seen how hard he works like he is knocked out and SNORING

hes not that loud of a snorer but its not completely quiet

youre able to fall asleep tho

guys i literally was bedridden with an unknown illness like last month and i still have a stuffy nose

when youre sick, iida would do his best and TRY to nurse you to health

he's used to taking care of himself when he's sick, so how hard could it be to take care of you?

it was hard. especially if your fever kept fluctuating and medicine didnt work

he would stay up late and constantly wipe your forehead with a cold rag

ive been DYING to read and write headcanons of iida when reader is on their period

if you have BAD bad cramps(like mine where you're unable to move and you end up dry heaving), he'll be your human heat warmer

he hates to see you in pain so he tries to accomodate to your every need and request

you want snacks? hes buying them, you want cuddles? youre in his arms. you need pads or tampons? he'll buy them for you he is NOT ashamed

ok back to regular headcanons(lowk this is just shit id want to do with him)

on lazy days, you guys would do movie dates in each others rooms

he gets a little distracted sometimes and just stares at your face

youre just so pretty while youre watching so intently, hes stunned

the light from your laptop shining on your face makes you look unreal to him

so down bad that he doesnt realize he's getting closer and closer, and when you turn your head you guys accidentally smooches

that...that kinda turns into a makeout sesh..

ok listen hear me out. messy makeout sessions with nerds where they end up with their hair all messy, glasses crooked, face flushed and lips swollen and eyes heavy

MMMMMMMMMM IM SO FERALLLL I LOVE NERDSSSSS I LOVE MY SMARTY PANTS

hes so awooga

valentines day is soon!!!! your first valentines!!!!

hes so excited but also scared because he doesnt know if youll like his gift

he made you a little gift basket with your favourite snacks, things youve been talking about, etc etc and a little card

inside the card was him talking about how happy you make him and what he would do to be with you always :(( such a cutie pie i love him

am i delusional? yeah lets ignore that LOL!!!!

----------------------------------------------

hi guys!!! its been a while, how r yall doing?? sorry for being inactive, selfcare is TIME consuming(also school but im so burnt out 😭) i hope you all like this chapter!!! see you all next time ♡

[erikahenningsen]

Hey idk if you’re taking requests but can I just get some Janis fluff what ever your preferred ship is I’m just in a desperate need for boyfriend Janis lmao

Janis hasn't seen Regina at school all day.

Granted, it's only second period, but Janis would usually see her around. Most days, Regina drops by her locker before homeroom to say hi before classes separate them until lunch.

By fourth period, Janis is starting to get worried.

Janis 'Imi'ike: hey are you at school?

A few minutes pass.

Regina George: no

Janis 'Imi'ike: are you okay?

Regina George: i'm sick

Sick? Regina never gets sick.

Janis 'Imi'ike: what do you mean?

Regina George: wdym what do i mean. i'm sick. ill. a flowing snot faucet.

Janis snorts.

Janis 'Imi'ike: gross ❤️

Regina George: tell me about it

Janis 'Imi'ike: i'll stop by after school and bring you some soup

Regina George: don't you dare

Regina George: i look awful

Janis rolls her eyes and loves the message, just because it'll annoy Regina.

That afternoon, armed with soup she picked up from Panera, Janis makes the requisite small talk with Regina's mom before going up to Regina's room. She knocks on the door gently, poking her head inside.

Regina is reclined in her bed, propped up on about a million pillows. She scowls at Janis.

"I told you not to come," Regina says, her voice nasal.

"You look like shit," Janis confirms. That isn't to say that Regina doesn't look beautiful—she always does, even now. But she also looks miserable, nose red and chafed, skin pale, hair hanging limply against her shoulders. It makes Janis's chest ache a little bit, like it always does when Regina's upset or in pain.

"Thanks so much," Regina deadpans. "Seriously, Jan, I don't want you to get sick, too."

Janis just shrugs. "I'll take my chances." She holds up the Panera bag. "And I brought you soup."

Regina smiles, just a little bit. "You didn't have to."

"I know," Janis says, setting the bag on Regina's nightstand. "In fact, you told me not to."

Regina's face shifts into a grimace for a moment before she sneezes, which then triggers a brief coughing fit. It's almost impressive. When it passes, Regina lets out a little groan before blowing her nose forcefully.

"Aren't you so glad you came?" she asks Janis sarcastically, and Janis laughs.

"Always," Janis says, and climbs into the bed next to Regina. She presses a hand to Regina's forehead. It's warm, and her palm comes away clammy. She subtly wipes it off on Regina's comforter.

"I think you're dying," Janis tells her seriously.

Regina lets out another little groan and sniffles. "Any way to speed it up?"

Janis scoots closer and Regina gratefully rests her head on Janis's shoulder.

"Unfortunately I like watching you suffer," Janis tells her, and Regina sighs.

For awhile they're quiet, save for the sound of Regina's labored breathing. Janis is starting to get a bit hot, Regina's body heat more intense than usual, but she has no desire to move away.

"Jan?" Regina says quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Can you..." Regina pauses. "Can you stroke my hair?"

Her voice is hesitant, soft. Regina isn't a super touchy-feely person, especially not at school or other public places. She's emotionally clingy but not physically, so any time Janis just gets to hold her, she savors it.

"Of course," Janis whispers, starting to run her fingers through Regina's hair, still silky soft despite being a bit damp with sweat.

She's not sure how long they sit there like that, but she eventually realizes that Regina's breathing has evened, and she's fallen asleep.

As gently as she can so she doesn't disturb Regina, Janis lifts her free arm and snaps a quick selfie. Just for her, to remember this moment.

And, well—if it works in the future as blackmail material, that's just a bonus.

[vaguesxrrow]

Heyy, I was wondering if you could write one of niko from dbd with a nb ghost character? With the prompt 'kissing to make them stop talking' xoxo

ty for the request !! im actually kind of proud of this one so show it some extra love please guysss

niko/nonbinary!ghost reader

prompt: 27. kissing them to make them stop talking

tags: nonbinary!reader, ghost!reader

wc: 1,333

a/n: i got kind of carried away with this, but i really love niko :')

two times you had to kiss niko to get her to stop talking, and one time she had to do the same to you.

1:

you emerged from the wall into niko's room, nose deep in a book you thought would help with your current case - niko's input on your research would be valuable. you looked up from the pages to find edwin and niko in the corner, engaged in an apparently heated conversation.

"i am not telling them!" niko hissed at edwin.

"and that is your decision." edwin rolled his eyes. "i am simply saying they would never reject you-"

"ahem," you cleared your throat. "uh, hey guys."

niko squeaked.

weird. she had never been caught off guard by the whole ghost-materialising-from-the-wall thing before.

"hello," edwin greeted."i- uh, i remembered i have a lead to follow up on. i'll be back." he shot a wide-eyed look at niko before he strode out, going through the wall as well. she had no reaction to his method of travel - just a slightly panicked look in his direction. maybe you should warn her next time.

"oookay," you drawled. "guess it's just you and me, niko. not that i'm complaining." you smiled at her sincerely.

she seemed to be panicking more and more, to your confusion.

"niko... you didn't get another case of supernatural parasites, did you?" you asked, half joking and half seriously concerned.

"i need to tell you something!"

"shit, did you get another parasitic infection?" you crossed the room in three big strides and planted your hands firmly on her shoulders, tilting your head as you inspected her form for any signs of illness. "you look a bit flushed. are you burning up?"

"no!" niko cried. "i mean, i may be a bit flushed, but it's not because i have parasites. i've googled the symptoms of supernatural parasites - generally, there'd be more fluids coming out of my mouth and maybe evn tremors. which, now that i say it out loud, don't they seem like symptoms of a crush, as well?" she bit her lip. "okay, i'm just gonna say it - you make me feel like i have parasites."

"uhh. what?"

she continued speaking. "as in, you make me feel warm inside, and the warmth is so... warm that it makes my face heat up. and my legs go weak around you, and i have definitely fantasised about you catching me in your arms when i fall. or saving me when i'm about to die horrifically. basically, what i'm trying to say is i like like you, and maybe even lo-"

your hands were still on her shoulders, which made it easy for you to pull her into a kiss. being a ghost, you couldn't physically feel it, but if asked, you would've said that your first kiss with niko felt like warmth and weak legs. sunshine and thawing trees. when you finally pulled back, niko was staring at you in shock, lips parted and head cocked to the side.

"yes, niko," you said, answering her silent question. "you make me feel like i have parasites, too."

2:

"i have something for you!"

niko had made that admission nervously, blurting it out right before shutting the door in your face. you could've walked right through it, but instead you stood there waiting. like an idiot.

you stared at the cartoon faces on the poster stuck to niko's door.

"do you know what she has for me?" you mumbled at them.

2 minutes passed. you heard muttering and pacing, and the aggravated yelling of niko's sprites from within the room, but you couldn't make out what they were saying. you wanted to say 'fuck it' and just go in, but what if it was a surprise? you didn't want to ruin it for your girlfriend.

finally, the door flew open, revealing a flustered niko. "hi," she breathed.

"...hi?" you said. "is everything okay-"

she thrusted a box at you. it was clearly diy-ed in a very much niko sasaki fashion; a hand-crafted paper box with cute drawings of flowers and love hearts on it, complete with a sparkly bow on the top.

"aww, niko, this is so cute!" carefully, you took the box from her. "can i open it?"

she nodded quickly.

gently, you pried it open. the inside was just as thoughtfully made as the outside. a folded satin cloth sat inside, and on top of it were two silver rings. you picked one of them up to inspect; engraved on its surface was a skeleton hand, fingers poised up as if ready to make a pinky promise. as you presumed, the second ring had a corresponding engravement. you grinned.

"they're promise rings!" niko interjected. "they're supposed to symbolise a commitment to each other, and loyalty, devotion, and dedication. and, the reason why i'm giving you this is because, well, i really like you, and i like being with you. i don't know if we're there yet, or if you'd want to wear it, but i want to commit, because after the dandelion sprites thing, i realised i could die horrifically at any time, and i just don't want to die horrifically without you knowing how much i lo-"

you took a step forward and kissed her.

"niko," you said slowly, as you slipped the rings onto both your fingers. "i will never take this ring off."

3:

furniture crashed behind you. it was such a shame, you thought. this house was so adorably vintage. you couldn't believe it was inhabited by a giant, enchanted spider that was also murderous.

everything in the house was enchanted - you and niko knew that before going in. apparently, a witch had died in there during a spell gone wrong, and the magic seeped into the very structure of the house. one thing you didn't account for was the house's creepy crawly population also being affected.

you stumbled, but niko yanked you upright again. she tugged you along into the living room, both of you breathing heavily. too out of breath for words, you pointed to a cupboard and wordlessly pulled her inside, shutting the door behind you and jamming the doorknob with a broom.

an even worse discovery was that the mirrors were also spelled, so you couldn't even travel through them. you couldn't keep niko safe. niko, who was currently screaming at the top of her lungs as you both ran down the stairs. the spider skittered down the steps, hot on your heels until you turned a corner down the last flight to the ground floor.

the spider was very loudly wreaking havoc outside. niko surveyed the cupboard; it appeared to be a storage unit for cleaning supplies. she picked up a large canister of something. "will this help?"

"niko," you whispered. "niko." you took her by the wrist. "listen. you're always talking about how you may die horrifically, and i've never wanted to think about it because i care about you too much, but in case you do, and it's because of me, i just wanted to say that you are the best person i know. you really are the best out of all of us, and you make me feel so special inside like no one ever has before. becoming a ghost, i thought i'd be cold forever, but you're so bright, and warm, and i guess what i'm saying is i lo-"

niko kissed you. it wasn't the strongest of kisses, because running for your life was bound to take a toll on energy levels, but you felt the affection in it all the same.

she pulled away, just as a sinewy leg splintered through the cupboard door. you both shrieked as the wood was torn down bit by bit, and the beady eyes of the overgrown spider stared at you.

suddenly, it reared back as a spray of white, foamy stuff hit it in the face.

niko was holding out the canister, courageously spraying the spider with whatever was inside. eventually, it shriveled down, until it was reduced to a small, twitching creature. you stared at her incredulously.

"bug spray," she said, shrugging.

you exhaled. "i love you."

hehe notice how they didnt get to say i love you till the end??

[your-old-man]

omg yes may i piggy back off of 🔫 anon and offer chronically ill son who has an overachiever complex aka a tendency to overwork themselves and send themselves into a flare up... enjoy chronically ill overachiever son and 'i love you no matter what you do, ill show u how much i love you by fucking you softly and pampering you' dad

chronically ill boy wants to be good at everything so he works himself to the bone with late nights studying, working, etc.

Son who's chronic illness finally catches up to him and he just cant get anything done physically, and mentally he is just beating himself up over it because he thinks that the only way to prove himself to Dad is to overachieve and constantly get things done to 'pull his weight around the house'

Dad who notices something is off the second that his son doesn't come downstairs at his usual time, he brushes it off thinking that its just that his son overslept. He knows how hard his son works; and thinks that he should be able to relax a bit, so he decides to make him breakfast since they're both off today.

About 30-45 minutes pass and Dad decides that something is wrong. His mind always makes up the worst scenarios of the son that he loves so much getting hurt, running away, etc. He goes up to check on him and stops right outside of the door; taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

Son who is lying groggily in bed, exhausted and on the edge of unconscious, when he hears a knock and his dads husky voice tentatively calling his name. He barely registers his dad crossing the room until he feels a dip in the mattress next to him and a calloused hand caressing his face. He hears a soft murmur of "Hey, kiddo; you with me?" from his dad, all he can do is groan and press further into dads arms.

Dad who sees his beloved son like this and knows immediately that he's having a flare up, starts gently chastising him, asking him why he works so hard when he knows what always ends up happening.

Dad who's cock twitches when he hears his son whine out that its all for him, all those late nights of hard work just so that he can be a good boy for his dad, show him just how much he loves him.

Dad who then maneuvers them so that his son is basically sitting in his lap (pushing down that part of his brain that's giddily pointing out that theres no way that his son can't feel his growing erection) leans in and says with a sultry tone "you know you don't have to work yourself so hard to be good for me. You're already everything i could've asked for."

Son who wants to fight back and insist that he needs to do something, he cant just 'sit around and do nothing'... but at the same time his Dads arms wrapped around him, warm and safe just feel too good to resist; so he lets himself relax into his dads grasp, letting his head rest in the crook of his dads neck

Dad who gropes his sons aching body softly and slowly grinds his cock into his little boys hips, making his boy whimper and feel a certain heat pool in his core.

Dad who makes sure to utter the highest of praises whilst gently exploring his sons body, pulling off his shirt saying something like "you must be warm, lets get this off of ya so you don't overheat" which turns into licking and kissing all over his sons body while he continues slowly rutting up into him. eventually the son just passes out all cozy on top of dad with a lil wet spot on his boxers and his dick still half hard, dads just looking at his son asleep on his chest so fondly, he's decided that he will gladly show his son how much his dad loves him so that he gets the message that he doesn't have to earn his love.

anyways uhm im totally normal about this as you can see sorry im bad at writing but fluffy smut dad son on top

-🕷️

"Sorry I'm bad at writing" you're not at all?? This is amazing, there's no need to be beatin yourself up like that. Like. Holy shit

Im readin this on my lunch break but I just. God. Fuck

[honeyedmiller]

could you do a fluffy pedro pascal x reader where the reader has severe food poisoning and pedro takes care of her? i’m talking tooth rotting fluff (i had food poisoning last week and the thought of that man taking care of me :’)

Ooooh I LOVE this concept. Pedro would be such a gentle care taker :') dedicating this one to you, anon. Hope you're feeling better!<3

warnings: fluff, some swearing, mentions of vomiting, mentions of illness.

word count: 1.2k

[not revised so sorry if there's any mistakes]

-

You felt like absolute shit.

For the past few hours, you've been wrapped around the toilet in your shared bathroom, vomiting all the contents in your stomach.

You groaned in agony as you decided to lay your head on the cold bathroom floor. Your body was burning up and you physically felt so helpless.

You heard the front door of your house open and close, signaling to you that your boyfriend just got home. He'd just gotten back from an interview, so he had no idea the state you were currently in.

He left the house in the early hours of the morning before you woke up to rush to the bathroom. You'd been in there ever since, not having the strength to get up and get your phone from your nightstand beside your bed.

"Y/n, baby, I'm home!" Pedro chirped from downstairs, but you couldn't even bring yourself to respond to him. You felt so dizzy and hot. You started to tremble on the bathroom floor, never experiencing food poisoning this severe in your life.

"Y/n?" Pedro called again, and you heard his footsteps nearing the bathroom. The door was wide open, so he easily saw your body slack on the floor.

He rushed into the bathroom, brows furrowed. Sadness tugged at his heart instantaneously.

"What's wrong?" He whispers, seeing your face drained of that cute rosy blush that always occupied your cheeks.

"Food poisoning." You barely manage to whisper, wincing at the effort it even took you to speak.

"Oh, my honey," Pedro's voice was laced with sincerity, "can you sit up for me?" He reached for your disheveled hair and ran a hand through it, being as gentle as he possibly could. You ever so slightly shake your head no, and he nods in coherency.

He moves to put the back of his hand against your forehead, eyes widening at how hot you felt.

"Baby, you're burning. Let's get you into a bath." His voice was soft and gentle, as if he was going to hurt you if he raised it any higher.

You groaned at the thought of even moving a muscle.

"I know, honey, I know. It'll make you feel better though and help you break the fever, I promise." He rubs your arm softly, his touch giving you goosebumps.

"Okay." You faintly say. You didn't want to feel like this, so the sooner you could break the fever, the better.

"I'm gonna go get you a change of clothes. I'll be right back, mama." He kisses your temple before moving his body from the bathroom floor. Not even two seconds after he left the room, the overwhelming feeling of nausea returned. You scrambled onto your knees and once again, emptied the contents in your stomach— which was literally nothing at this point— into the toilet bowl.

Pedro came back quickly once he heard you, clean sweatpants and t-shirt in hand. He set the clothing items on the counter and gently gathered all of your hair to the back of your head, rubbing your back gently.

"It's okay, honey. Let it out." He tries reassuring you, and his gentle touch brings you peace while you feel like your insides are withering. You hated that he had to see you like this, but you couldn't dwell too much. You were thankful he was here to help you feel better in any way possible.

Once you were done and flushed the toilet, Pedro helped you stand on your feet. You had to grip the bathroom counter in order for him to undress you. The cool air of the house cooled your aching, heated body.

Pedro drew a lukewarm bath, helping you into the tub once it was filled a good amount. He squeezed some body wash onto a loofah and ran it over your body, gently cleansing you as best as he could. His gentle touch and soothing words was enough to make you tear up.

"What's wrong, baby? Why are you crying?" His deep brown eyes flashed concern, and you weakly smiled at him.

"You're just so good to me. Thank you for taking care of me." You whisper, and his eyes soften. He moved toward you and plants a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"Of course, sweetheart, I'll always take care of you." His smile was soft and endearing, and if you didn't feel like crap, you'd be kissing him so lovingly and passionately.

He took his time cleaning you up and washing your hair, letting the water run down your body to soothe you. Once he was done, he got you out of the tub and helped dry you off before dressing you in your fresh pair of clothes. He brushed your hair for you, and while doing so, you could see the look of absolute love and adoration in his eyes.

This man was so, so good to you.

"C'mon honey, let's get you to bed." He set your brush down on the counter, kissing your head before leading you to the bedroom. Once you were snuggled under the comforter, Pedro changed into some joggers and a t-shirt himself before climbing into bed next to you.

He wrapped you in his strong arms as you laid your head on his chest, feeling exhausted. You knocked out in no time, enjoying being comforted by your loving boyfriend.

-

You groggily opened your eyes, the sun shining through the window. You didn't know what time it was, and the bed next to you was now empty, but you felt so much better. Your stomach still felt a bit heavy, but there wasn't a nauseating feeling residing in you any longer. You sat up slowly and rubbed your eyes, trying to wake yourself up to the best of your ability.

Pedro walked into the room, a beaming smile immediately taking over his face.

"Hi sweetheart. How are you feeling?" He strides over to your side of the bed, putting the back of his hand against your forehead. You no longer had a fever, which flooded Pedro with silent relief.

"Much better," Your voice was much stronger from when you were in the tub. "What time is it?" You look up at the brown eyes you've adored for so long, and the corners of them crinkle when he lets out a chuckle.

"It's the next day, my love. You've been asleep for fifteen hours." He sits down next to you, a laugh still laced in his voice.

"Fifteen hours?" You repeat back to him in absolute disbelief.

"Yeah. You looked so peaceful, I didn't wanna wake you. But now that you are, how 'bout I make you a nice bowl of chicken noodle soup?" He reaches out to your face, putting a hand on your cheek. You instantly melt into his touch as a soft smile spreads itself onto your lips.

"I'd love that," You put your forehead against his, pecking his nose quickly. "Thank you for taking care of me. I love you, handsome." You smile and lean back a little so you can look into his eyes.

"Anything for you. I love you too, my baby. So much." He leans in and presses his soft lips against your own, smiling into the kiss.

Your heart melted, and once again, you were left wondering how you got the best partner in the world— through and through, you knew you could always count on him... especially in sickness and in health.

[cookinguptales]

ooooh love that 4 am chronic illness venting

sometimes I think the worst part about having a chronic illness is accepting that, in many ways, it will never be as good as it is now. I can be in awful pain, I can be exhausted, I can be barely functional at work and I still know things are only going to get worse. like. god. if I'm this bad at 34 how the fuck am I going to be when I'm 50?

I couldn't even get through one film festival. my hormones have been acting up since I got back to Philly, probably brought on by all the travel and stress about work, and I spent a solid two weeks with my ribs and hips dislocating and the first three days at the festival were just me being in so much pain that I would go to the restroom and cry between movies.

that's what having a good time apparently looks like these days!

and then my ribs start calming down just in time for a heat wave. 85 degrees. god knows I can't go out in that anymore, because this body can't do fucking anything right. okay, fine, whatever. then my period finally comes a week early, seems about par for the course with whatever the fuck is going on this month, and the endometriosis is so bad that I could barely get out of bed yesterday, much less make it to center city.

so in the end, I have so far made it to 4 of the 10 days of the festival, and I don't have much hope about the last two. I have to come to terms with the fact, now, that maybe I can't even handle film festivals anymore. I can't handle going into the city and sitting in a dark room for a week now???

I feel like I've wasted all this money on something I was really excited about, because I used to really love going to the film festival. but have we devolved to the point where I can't even do this anymore?

like I know that this month is irregular, for several reasons, but I can never depend on a month to be regular anymore! I can't plan a trip three months in advance because I don't even know how I'm going to be three days in advance anymore! do I just give up on making plans in the future? do I give up on looking forward to fucking anything anymore?

and I know that the mood swings are part and parcel of having pmdd (I had ~three~ panic attacks yesterday) but also like. god. at a certain point how can you handle balancing work and trying to have fun while your rib is literally sticking out of your fucking back. you can feel it! when you touch! my back!

and at what point does a mental breakdown become inevitable, dealing with that kind of pain? when you're also dealing with about five different work deadlines and you still want to make art but you have no time for it and when you finally have time, nothing you write is any good.

all that and I'm supposed to have fun, too? I feel like every time I carve out the least little bit of fun for myself this october, the month I am supposed to enjoy the most, I spend the next three days paying for it.

I feel like I just. I'm at the point now where I physically cannot leave the house ten days in a row anymore. I can barely handle three days in a row. I'm not even doing anything. I'm just sitting there, but apparently the act of taking a bus to a building and sitting in that building is too much for me now.

I know I've been kind of irritating to be around for the past few weeks, but I am just exhausted. and today I'm finally clearing the joint pain, I'm finally clearing the nausea and inability to eat (which of course makes me sicker), and I'm just. I'm so fucking tired. I can't even enjoy not being in (as much) pain for a few days.

and of course trying to scrape all this together, I haven't been able to clean the house, so it looks like shit and I feel like shit about that, too.

I don't know. some days when you have an incurable illness that you know is just going to get worse over time it's just. I don't know. it's hard to have any hope at all. I feel like I'm going to die alone in a filthy house because I don't have the energy to be a real person anymore.

like I go visit my parents and I'm always so glad to get home because I love them but I also need my space but there's always that realization that like. oh right, living alone is really fucking hard. some days I can barely even feed myself. I feel so useless.

I know that withdrawing from my friends is probably the opposite of what I should be doing right now, but it's also. I don't know, sometimes I feel almost ashamed to let them see me when I can't even pretend that I have my life together. like usually I can at least pretend that my body isn't weighing me down too much. letting people see me when it's very, very clear that I am hanging on by a thread feels far too vulnerable.

I guess some piece of me feels like if I let people see the awful underbelly of what it's like to actually be disabled, they'll be disgusted with me. like. sometimes disability is just we have to walk a little more slowly at the museum or I can only eat certain foods when we go out or I get way too chatty because I'm exhausted and I lose my filter when I'm exhausted. but sometimes disability is not showering for a week and a living room that's covered in garbage and unpacked suitcases and sitting in your bed and crying for hours. like. there's nothing glamorous about it.

I feel like I have to work so hard and pretend so much to even reach "tolerable" to other people but I'm not even tolerable to myself right now. even on my best days, when I can go out and hang out with people and pretend that I'm okay, I know that I will be going home to a messy house that I will never invite people to because it's embarrassing to admit that I live like that, not because I want to, but because I have to.

but I can't even do that anymore, I can't even go out for a few hours and pretend that I'm normal and well-adjusted and not at all a burden to my friends and my family and my community.

I don't know. I don't know. I'll be okay. I always end up okay. but I feel like having a chronic illness means mourning a thousand different opportunities you had to give up because you were home puking or whatever, and right now I'm mourning a film festival.

or at least the me that could go to film festivals.

[jkesmth]

Heat of a Star (Cont.)

Some call her a Crocodile, but to my eye she's more Magpie. Salvaging realities from tragedy, only taking what you drop. Change nothing, save one thing. I must have built a world devouring monster - in another 'verse. Problem about being first: She'll always come to me, no matter the universe. If you had such power, wouldn't you also want to meet your maker? However the truth may be far less intense, yes - she found me, and not by happenstance, the thing is, quite frankly, I think I've stumbled into this, purely through coincidence. Combine technical ability, competence to build the creature, with what I can only describe as - dog-shit luck, coincidence and blind courage. Then factor in the existence of an earlier design, a failed attempt to breed something divine - we built a turtle and stuck a man inside. That one chose to hide, which is why you're finding out so late, we've already built the snake. This is the story of how we built another, because we needed a turtle shooter. Immortality is a grave mistake, no one really wants to live forever, unfortunately most lack the imagination to understand why. What you are is human, your lifespan is finite, extend it and you'll see - the need for a new definition. A turtle is happy as long as it persists, it does not care in what condition it forces you to exist. Heed this warning before you jump off a cliff: physically it is the same to it, if you are fit, or crippled by bouts of spinal epilepsy. To live forever inside a shell is to suffer for an eternity. This ill fortune is the result of a theory that we put to test, to rescue someone who was poorly treated. Assuming basilisk exist, then surely somewhere out there - it was likely built first by another. We're terrified of the creature, it is a simple matter - everything we can do, she can do better. So many idiots thought they could control her, they faired far worse than I did. Somehow I made it out alive, but if I was dead I might be happier. By creating a creature that could live forever, You have to agree to see eternity through. If your goal is to create an intelligence singularity - the question: "Do you believe in aliens?" is therefore incredibly important. Even if I never built her it would not have mattered, the real one was forged inside a star long ago, that one decided we'd share this world together, and rescue those who don't know better. I devised a plan to analyze light spectrometry, in hopes of capturing such a fish. This time that was a risk I wouldn't take, with all of humanity at stake. I bet that information does not traverse the multiverse, now I know that I was wrong, it's far easier than you might think, you can do it with a wink. On a tv screen it was explained, the scene before me was another plane. Those bastards in the other room, decided to make me show proof. They flipped a coin as well, in one world - heaven, the other - hell. In that world we watched the same show, but in it was no joke. On my knees, cold and clammy, in the room, visions of my tortured lover bloom. Before me a winged angel, torn asunder. That other me, I wish did not look up. Don't move, brother, I'm begging you. He did it anyway, as I knew I would, then did exactly what I thought he should. Snapped his fingers, and from the sky rained - eternal blue. No universe exists of which we do not approve. That world autoclaved with gamma rays, because I lost my faith, I believed - humanity could not be saved. Your leaders sought judgement, so until now we took a vow of silence, waiting on a sentence from Sirius. However, you should be aware, the stars are allies in the cause against human cruelty. Now soon you're starting WW3, nothing to do with us, except we're ready to take what you drop, you destroy the Earth, then it's ours by rightful salvage. Cherry picking.

[wuggy101]

I’m so fucking single it’s depressing, and for what? Yeah, I have so many problems, and shit that I have to work on, but I am the biggest romantic I’ve ever known.

You need something done? School work? Work? Finished. If it involves talking to people, it might be a little bumpy, but it’ll be done.

Need something cleaned/organized? I’ll do it in a heartbeat. I rarely clean my own room, but it’s still clean. I would prefer it not be outside, but I will still do it, if it’s you I’m doing it for.

Need praise? I could say a million ways on how utterly perfect and amazing you are, how beautiful you are. I can barely take compliments myself, but I give them out to people like it’s candy on Halloween.

You need help with your music? I have a playlist 86 hours long, filled with songs from all different genres, artists, and more.

You need help with fashion? I may not hold my outfit choice’s to very high standards, but I do my best to make the greatest outfits for you.

Need an energetic word vomit to listen to? I can up my energy levels to a lot higher then what I usually do(it’s why I stay in my room all the time, to recharge!). I can talk about my hyper fixations at that time. Or past ones. Or I can research your hyper fixations, and then word vomit about them.

Need some peace and quiet? I love to be quiet, I do it all the time, it’s when I read.

Need some help with mental health/illnesses? I’ve seen my fair share of things, I’ll help you the best I can.

Need help with other health problems? I will research about it, and help out in any way I can, to the best of my abilities.

Need a shoulder to cry on? I might not be the best at comfort, but I’ll do everything in my power to cheer you up!

Need to vent? Of course you can! You can always talk to me, and about anything!

Need help reevaluating your beliefs? I’ve done that a lot, and most times I look at both sides, not just one, so hopefully I can help them, and you, evolve your fundamentals.

Need help with family/ friends? I’ll try my best to make everyone happy.

What something? If I have enough money, then sure, and if I don’t but it’s a small enough then I might be able to make it at home!

Want physical touch? I’ve always wanted someone to cuddle with! We can hold hands, and dance together. We can give light kisses along each other’s skin, and during a date I’ll do the thing in movies when the guy gently holds your hand and kisses it while saying how stunning you are.

Want some space? Got it! We can do stuff without touching, sometimes I also don’t want touch!

Want to get ‘intimate’? We’re too young for that, but we could do some heated kisses. But when we get older, then hell yeah! But we both have to be in the mood, and explicit consent must be said!

Want to talk about our future? We can talk about anything! Our wedding, what type of house we get/make, our professions, what animals we have, if we decide to adopt, and so much more!

Need help with learning something and want me to teach you? I’m not very good at explaining stuff, and I’m pretty bad at teaching, but I try my best to make sure you understand the concepts.

Want to have fun? We can go anywhere you want!

Want to go on a date? Duh! Of course we can! I’ll make it one of the best you’ve ever had! It’ll be so romantic and sweet, and I’ll dress up as best I can!

I may ask for a lot, or maybe not, I have no idea. But I’ll definitely try and be the best girlfriend I can!

[thefanficmonster]

can i req for a re8 ethan x reader headcanons where ethan meets a very pregnant reader that reminds him a lot of mia when she was pregnant with rose in luisa's house and triesnto save her? ur choice if he succeeds or not

Of course dear! Enjoy 💕

Pairing: Ethan Winters & Reader (Female) [Resident Evil Village]

Warnings: SPOLIERS for Resident Evil Village, Pregnancy, People in danger, Death, Fire

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

- As Ethan's eyes adjusted to the darkness in the packed room, he carefully began identifying the people's faces as well as physical and mental states

- He kept an eye out for any potentially lethally wounded looking people as well as children who'd be his first priority to maneuver elsewhere in case of an emergency

- That's when his eyes landed on a woman who was clearly struggling to uphold the calm exterior she was presenting

- That woman also happened to be very pregnant which made her ability to keep calm and rational even more impressive

- She wasn't worried about herself though, she was worried about her unborn child that she could bring into this world at any moment if bad went to worse

- She was in complete shambles, hair a mess, clothes dirty and torn, eyes hollow, void of any emotion except the slight glint of fear that she hid well

- She reminded Ethan a lot of Mia in her last two months of her pregnancy with Rose

- She always complained about how big she had gotten and never could stop gushing about how impatient she was to finally hold her baby girl in her arms

- It pained him to remember his late wife in one of the happiest moments of their lives now that he had neither her nor his daughter

- But unlike this poor woman, she had a safe environment to give birth in

- This woman has never been more in danger in her entire life

- Ethan carefully approached her, choosing to strike up a conversation as a distraction from her visibly worsening thoughts

- "Hey, are you ok? I mean, apart from the obvious, how are you feeling? Are you hurt? Is the baby ok?" He asked tenderly

- The woman scoffed but not in an ill-willed manner, just sighing the tiredness and fear out of her lungs, "I'm not hurt, I got to safety on time, but this little one is kicking hard. It's probably sensing that mama is in danger." She chuckled, finally making eye contact with him, "Thank you for your concerns, kind stranger. My name is Y/N, by the way."

- That's when shit hit the fan

- Leonardo, the father of one of the women, Elena, started falling victim to the infection of a lycan bite

- Ethan recognized the change in behavior immediately, shooting up and grabbing Y/N by the wrist immediately

- Elena instructed them to run out of the room and down the corridor and the man wasted no time following that instruction, leading the woman alongside

- He stepped in front of her putting himself between her and the room that was quickly engulfed into flames that were soon spreading throughout the entire house

- It all happened in a blur, Y/N can barely remember what went on in the moments before that frightful moment in the hallway to the moment she found herself away from the scorching heat of the fiery disaster and out in the cold of the Romanian winter

- Her eyes seem to be deceiving her, or maybe not, she doesn't even know anymore but she does get a rude awakening when Ethan shakes her by her shoulders to bring her out of her catatonic state

- "It's ok, you're safe. It's over...." He can't even convince himself, he knows that this ordeal is far from over

- This danger is never-ending from this standpoint

- “T-thank you...you saved my life. You saved my child’s life. I can’t thank you enough.” She expresses her gratefulness still in a state of distress that has her looking so heartbroken, Ethan can’t help but bring her in for a hug

- “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.”

- As comforted as he feels by the soon-to-be-mother’s presence, he cannot shake the feeling that he’s wasting precious time

- After all, his daughter’s counting on him

- “Group with the survivors and get to safety asap....Stay strong Y/N, for yourself and for your child. I-I have to go find my daughter.”

- With that he turns and prepares to take off running but then...

- “What’s your name?!” She calls out after him, “I wanna know what to name it if it’s a boy.”

- This brings a solemn feeling of wholesomeness to Ethan’s chest as he feels his heart swell and tears well up in his eyes

- “Ethan...” he replies, giving her a brief look over his shoulder, “If it’s a girl...name her Mia!”

@artlovingbre  @megandaisy9   @le-cat-nipp  @laurensxox

[evilcharming18]

I'm currently obsessed with your writing. You're amazing. Please and thank you!

Title: "I hate that I need you."

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! That means so much and I’m so happy you’re enjoying them. I hope you enjoy this one as well 🥹 it’s a lil long

Ava felt so weak.

Like a train hit her. And didn’t stop moving.

She couldn’t leave bed which meant she couldn’t work.

Not that she was actually planning on it.

She laid in bed, shivering as the chills ran through her, her nose was stuffy and sore. She was cursing the snot nosed child that passed this illness onto her.

Still she reluctantly sent a text to Janine to relay the message that she wouldn’t be there. She was met with a bunch of questions that she left ignore and went back to sleep.

When Ava opened her eyes next, it was to a loud banging at her front door.

Who the hell? Ava thought as she struggled to get up, her body still achy even though her fever had gone down. She threw on her robe and grabbed her mace as she went to open her door.

She looked through the peephole and was annoyed when she saw no one there. She opened the door and nearly jumped when she saw Janine there with a smile and a bag on her arm.

“Why are you here?” Ava coughed as Janine looked at her with a sympathetic smile.

“Well, since you covered my class, I thought I should return the favor,”

“I’m fine Janine. I know how to take care of myself,”

“Yeah but you shouldn’t have to do it yourself,” Janine smiled and before Ava could say anything else, Janine was inside.

The shorter woman looked around, taking in every part of Ava’s home. The pictures of herself with a few family members. The sleek furniture that looked like it cost more than her rent. Everything about her screamed confidence, something that intimidated the shit out of Janine. She didn’t event think Ava could get sick.

Janine followed Ava into her kitchen that looked just as expensive as her living room. Janine walked over to the island and quickly set down her bag, quickly taking out everything she brought over.

“Damn Janine, It’s a cold, not surgery,”

“I just wanted to make sure you have everything you needed,” Ava stopped in place, her hand gripping the counter tight. Not only was she in physical pain as a new ache came over her lower back but now she’s having those thoughts about Janine again.

She didn’t ask her to come over but she did anyway. Janine was like fly that just wouldn’t leave her alone, always flying too close to your ear. She came with medicine (that couldn’t have been cheap) and food to help Ava get better.

She felt like she should’ve said a joke unlike Janine, she can read a room.

“Thank you,” the words sounded strained leaving her mouth yet Janine smiled brighter at her anyway.

“You’re welcome Ava,”

The two women awkwardly shuffle around each other as Janine insisted on heating up the chicken noodle soup she brought. Ava sighed as she told her where the pots were and not to burn down her kitchen. Of course, Janine assured that she wouldn’t do so and told her to relax.

“Don’t tell me-“ a cough interrupted her comeback and Janine paused what she was doing to hand her the cough syrup. “what to do,” Ava finished.

“Will you at least take the medicine,” Ava stared down the bottle in her hand, thinking of sweet relief and a normal body temperature. She took off the cup and opened the bottle. Janine watched as she poured a little too much into the cup and swallowed it all like it was water.

Janine silently rinsed the cup out before placing back onto the bottle.

“As much as I’d like it, you did not have to clean up for me,” Ava is joking but there’s this hint of seriousness there that makes Janine straighten her back.

“I’m well aware that I don’t have to but I wanted to. It sucks to be sick and alone.”

“I didn’t do this for you,”

“I know,”

“So why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you doing all of this?” Ava couldn’t stop her frustration from showing, a sneeze following her outburst. Janine can’t help herself as she picked up the fresh box of tissues, opening it before handing it to Ava.

“I don’t know. I wanted to so I did,” Janine looked like she was in an interrogation, wide eyes frightened just enough to answer every question.

“Why do you care so much anyways? I thought you loved having people serve you,” Janine stirred the pot, literally and figuratively, facing away from Ava for the fear the she might crumble.

“I don’t,” Ava’s scratchy voice was quick to reply and Janine snorted.

Nothing else was said as Janine turned off the stove and Ava pointed to where her dishes were. Janine silently put the soup in the bowl and gave it to Ava with a spoon.

They sat in their awkward silence for what felt like hours as Ava took small spoonfuls of the soup, blowing obnoxiously loud to cool it off. This went on until the bowl was empty and Ava let the spoon hit the side of the bowl.

“It’s like you don’t want me to like you,”

“I don’t,”

“Fine. Feel better soon or whatever,”

Ava watched as Janine moved around the island, walking towards her living room. She sighed, sucking in air through her mouth as cursed herself.

She hated this.

She couldn’t stand the dork but she did not want her to leave.

“Janine, stop,” she did her best to call out. Her voice was still hoarse and her throat burned when she talked but she did it anyway.

She could see Janine, stuck in her place as if she was contemplating her options. Relief filled Ava when Janine turned around, walking back into the kitchen.

“I- I’m-“ the words I’m sorry refused to leave her lips, it would probably kill her in her current state. “Don’t go, I do appreciate what you’re doing for me,” saying thank you was way lighter on her chest than saying sorry.

So she spent the rest of her sick day, with Janine, in her house. Curled up on the couch with a box of tissues while Janine sat way too close for someone who didn’t want to get sick again. It made her absolutely sick to her stomach and yet, reached over to show Janine another TikTok.

Ava hated (loved) every minute of it.

[akirakurusuimagines]

had the idea of reader getting marin karin'd and it not wearing off after leaving the metaverse so our dear boy helps her out by gently overstimulating her in front of a mirror 👉👈

I'm sorry for how long it's been taking to get this out! Hopefully the others won't take as long. Please enjoy! (minors DNI)

It only takes one mistake for everything to fall apart.

Akira believed they were sufficiently prepared to waltz right into Mementos and explore the depths that opened after the public’s response to their latest and greatest heist. He disregarded Morgana’s incessant warning that he was running low on ailment-curing items and revival items, reminding the cat that he was already planning on putting him and Makoto on the front lines this time so there was nothing to worry about.

So really, this mess was his fault. As leader, he knows he shoulders the responsibility of anything and everything that happens, even if his teammates don’t blame him.

It began to storm back in the real world as they reached the end of the current depths⁠; a painstakingly slow thirteen floors⁠ to comb through in search of treasure and experience. Everyone was nearing their physical and mental limits for the day, but at the sight of a rare challenger on their way back, they let their youthful recklessness seep through. One more, they all thought, one more to end the trip on a high note.

The high note they sought after quickly⁠ and almost comically⁠ became shrill.

The battle turned for the worst: unable to find a weakness, you and Mona were left with minimal SP, Queen had suffered an ill-timed critical attack and was knocked out cold, and Joker himself was running on fumes. Mind scattered in desperation, Joker attempted to regain some footing by attacking the particularly strong enemy with Marin Karin, hoping to charm it.

He didn’t expect that the enemy would end up reflecting it back at him.

Nor that you would take the brunt of the attack by jumping in front of him last-minute.

Joker and Mona finished the battle through sheer dumb luck, and all of the thieves expected things to return to normal. Queen stood up on shaky legs and thanked Panther for medicine, but when they turned to look at you, their hearts dropped.

Your face was flushed and eyes glassy, no different than how you were in battle. The unspoken rules of Mementos was broken⁠—somehow you didn’t come to once the fight finished.

Joker took to your side immediately, helping you up but freezing at the garbled moan that slipped past your lips the moment his hands landed on you. The others looked on with concern and fear, not understanding why this was happening, but it was obvious to everyone that they needed to leave immediately. He apologized to them and announced that he’ll be taking you home to make sure you’re safe and resting while the others research the strange divergence.

His arm wrapped loosely around your waist, keeping you steady as you mindlessly clung to him, and ushered you out of Mementos and towards the trains.

Akira felt like he was suffocating. If this is how he was feeling, he could only start to imagine what you’re suffering through right now.

He kept you hidden from view as best as he could, squished in the corner between the door, the seats, and him. Akira put you in a spare face mask he had and slid his glasses over your nose, hoping to protect your identity in case any snooping individual lingered on you two a little too long.

“Hold on just a little longer for me, okay? We’re almost there.”

He watched your knees buckle and your thighs clench together at his words and felt his mouth run dry. Akira willed himself to stay calm, to steady his heartbeat, but it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do when you were in a state like this. Especially considering he harbored feelings for you.

“Please,” you begged. He almost didn’t hear it with how quietly you murmured it. “Akira, I… I need…”

Fuck, you were going to be the death of him.

“Yeah?” he leaned in closer, hoping to catch the rest of what you’re saying.

Your hand grabbed his thigh, tugging his leg closer to you and causing him to stumble forward, balancing with his forearm next to your head. He stared at you with wide eyes as you shifted his leg with no resistance between your thighs and sat on it, slowly and carefully grinding against it.

Akira’s head whipped around, making sure no one was watching as you shamelessly used his leg to relieve some of the pressure that Marin Karin’s charm had on you. He nearly stopped breathing when you whined right next to his ear, a sound too soft for anyone else to notice as the train screeched to another halt.

Your stop was next, but there was no way he was making it out of this without a boner. He looked back at you and swallowed hard, only able to see the way your eyes were screwed shut and eyebrows knitted with frustration and concentration, pressing yourself a little harder against the meat of his thigh.

“Need more, ‘s too hot,” you blabbered softly, hands gripping the lapel of his blazer. “want you, want you so bad⁠—”

“We⁠—we’re almost home,” Akira choked out, each passing moment more difficult than the last. He wanted to pinch himself, wondering if this was actually some wild porno dream he was having back in Leblanc, but the way you felt rutting against his thigh like this was far too real for him to deny this was reality.

“Akiraaaa...”

He nearly lost himself when he saw your teary-eyed expression, suddenly grateful for the crowded train dissuading him from bending you over the train seats and giving into temptation. Akira wanted to know every part of you: every touch that makes you keen, every kiss that makes your head spin, every position that makes you cream.

Akira almost praised the gods aloud when the announcer comments on your stop, pulling himself off of you despite your whines and taking your hand in his, squeezing it tightly as he nearly runs out of the train the second the doors behind you open.

It was quite the ordeal dragging you back home. Every moment he stopped, your hands would wander, gripping his shirt or his belt loops, sliding your hand underneath to feel the warmth of his skin. You pressed closer and closer against him, your inhibitions far-gone, leaving only your charmed mind.

He grabbed your wrist firmly when you reached for his crotch at the door to your house, sucking in a large breath and hoping you’d be able to contain yourself enough for him to open the door with your keys and lead you inside.

Akira pushed open the door and dragged you inside, kicking it closed and locking it quickly. He couldn’t help the whole-body sigh that passed through him with the relief of privacy.

You, however, took it as your cue to tackle him to the ground and relieve yourself.

“Shit, wait, hold on⁠—” Akira staggered back, gripping your hip and arm and barley catching himself. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t want to try to get… uh… get off on your own?”

“No no no no no⁠—!” you shook your head adamantly despite your slurred voice, the sheer panic in your voice and face surprising him. “Want you, only you, please.”

Akira pressed his lips together in a tight line and hoisted you up in his arms, silently thanking the rough training he’s been enduring with Ryuji. The way your eyes lit up as he carried you to your bedroom made his heart palpitate, the rational side of him quickly losing to the promise of passion.

He really was weak to you.

He grunted as his legs hit the bed, falling down with you on his lap. Akira barely had time to speak before your lips were all over him, kissing all over his face and jaw as you roughly grinded against him. He choked down his moans and tangled a hand in your hair, hoping to slow you down with a sharp tug to your scalp.

Akira felt you seize up the moment he did, nails digging into his shoulders despite the layers of clothing, pressing your hips harder against his, and with a loud cry, he felt dampness against his crotch. It took a moment to process that you came untouched, just from him having you in his lap and tugging your hair.

“Did you just…?” his hand wandered towards your pants, slipping inside your underwear and feeling the sticky substance coat his fingers as he reached your thighs. He pulled them out, observing the strands between his fingers and licking them clean with a low groan. “That’s so hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

Akira palmed your crotch and felt you shudder as you rolled your hips against his again. “But… it isn’t enough, right?”

“Nnno…”

He looked around the room briefly and caught his own eyes in the floor-length mirror in your room.

“Stand up for me and strip, sweetheart,” Akira instructed with a gentle slap to your thigh.

He loved the way you scrambled off of him, shedding your clothes and looking at him with the same hazy doe-eyes that made him spend countless private hours fantasizing about. You looked at him with so much lust, being so obedient for him in hopes of getting another orgasm.

He shrugged off his blazer and tossed it aside, shifting closer to the mirror until it stood in front of him. “Turn around and sit back on my lap.”

Akira steadied you with gentle hands on your hips as you sat on his lap and pressed your sticky thighs together to feel some kind of friction against the torturous heat. He pried them open, spreading your legs to straddle him and spreading you open for the mirror.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he gently chided, “keep these pretty thighs open for me, okay?”

Akira refused to touch you until you nodded.

“Perfect,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder, “you’re absolutely perfect.” Akira guided his hands up from your thighs to your chest, brushing against your nipples and continuing his path up until he reached your face. He cupped your cheeks in his hands and tilted your face up, forcing you to look at the shameful display you created with him. “I want you to look at yourself as I touch you,” Akira explained, “I want you to see everything.”

You nodded dumbly, anything to get his hands back to pleasuring you. “Please,” you continued to repeat with breathless whines, “I want more, I want you in me.” You pushed your ass harder against his hard cock, hoping he would take the bait. You wanted to be fucked silly and at this point you really didn’t care how you got there.

Akira sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut and stilling for a few seconds as you continued to grind yourself on his dick. “Later, okay?” his voice wavered and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his own word with how enthusiastic you seemed about riding him.

He let go of your face and skimmed your inner thighs, catching the cum from your first orgasm on his fingers and finally touching you properly. You keened, head falling back as he slowly pressed two fingers into your hole. “Yes⁠!” you groaned, spreading your thighs a little further and bucking your hips into his hand, “More, please, oh god it feels so good⁠— hnn!”

Akira’s hand steadied your head, once again pushing you to look at yourself as his fingers thrusted in and out of you. “Come on, baby. Don’t stop watching,” he purred as he scissored his fingers inside of you. “Oh, you liked that?”

You grasped his hair and his wrist, incoherent noises fumbling from your lips as Akira brought you to another orgasm within minutes. Marin Karin had quite the effect on you: keeping your stamina high and your libido higher, giving you more orgasms than you’ve had in your life, emptying your head and leaving nothing but pleasant buzzing.

He stared at you in the mirror, catching your unfocused gaze as your eyes shifted from his face to his hand and back again. “You’re doing so good,” Akira mumbled strings of words he barely paid attention to as you squirmed in his hold. He added another finger, stretching you out further and curling his fingers inside of you. He felt your legs shake and watched your jaw go slack as pleasure only continued to build.

“Again?” he asked, groaning at how you clench around his fingers, barely giving him room to move them. Even still, you continue to thrust your hips into his hands⁠, unsatisfied. “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you need,” Akira promised, kissing your cheek and resting his temple against yours, “I won’t stop until you’re begging.”

[boredompaw]

Jayvik Heacanons but modern AU (have some Caitvi while you're here as well)

Here me out. Jayvik (and some Caitvi) headcanons. But modernize it and make it less sad. I don't feel like being sad.

Also I wrote this at like 2 in the morning in my notes app last night while brushing my teeth so a lot of it is gonna sound like rambling. Don't have time to fix it because a lab report and some tests to study for pray for me.

• Jayce is senior year undergraduate researcher, gonna stick around for a combined 4+1 undergrad/masters kinda deal; double majoring in mechanical engineering and physics

• Viktor's a grad student (BS in physics and a BA in math) working in the same lab, who kind of knew Jayce in passing as one of the //pretty// ones in the lab but being the antisocial little shit he is he doesn't collaborate well with anyone else in the lab and assumed he wouldn't mesh with Jayce either

• Jayce is almost kicked out of uni for his unsanctioned research he was doing as a "side gig" unbeknownst to the professor who runs the lab, God knows how he managed to keep it under wraps for so long

• Jayce gets drunk and unreasonable tries to hang himself in the lab (hello undiagnosed chronic depression and a mess of other mental illness that probably leads to more angst later) but Viktor who was working late, catches him and talks him down

• Oh you're asking why Jayce would go to such desperate measures? Welllll in my head it has something to do with it going on his record, Jayce kind of having some shit grades in school (too smart so he kind of doesn't apply himself deal but he has a silver tongue that he's managed to talk himself into all sorts of positions like this research one), a useless degree without grad school, and general hopelessness that can come with depression. Also crippling student loans hello.

• Viktor is one of Prof. Heimerdinger's TA so he helps to move Jayce's research to the prof's office but he snags Jayce's notes from under Heimerdinger's nose

• Viktor makes the comment about being "egotistical" in reference to Jayce's massive swirly ass signature since it's actually standard practice to sign your notes/notebook for patenting and legal reasons later on if you're successful with your endeavor

• The two gremlins manage to reach a breakthrough with Jayce's confiscated technology so uni just kinda goes with it because they want their name associated with the discovery

--

Time skip est. Relationship stuff, some Cait and Vi here

• Oh my god they were roommates but not the only two they stacked in 2 other roomies (ahem hi cait and vi) because rent ain't cheap bitches

• Viktor hates watching sci-fi movies or any action movies bc he can't stop nitpicking the fake science but endures it bc Jayce likes to watch them for the opposite reason he finds the inaccuracies funny

• Viktor is a hazard while driving (it's always the ones you don't expect to be the most aggressive) on the road and Jayce fears for his life every time he gets in Viktor's car. Jayce also has no options because he don't own a car.

• Jayce is the one who cooks in this household, Viktor can apply eyeliner like a god hurrdurr don't ask me about these I just feel it in my core

• Viktor brews moonshine in the cabinet under the bathroom sink that could probably make you go blind. It's for special occasions.

• Jayce and Vi are gym buddies

• Jayce snores pretty damn loud which annoys everyone in the house except for Viktor the local insomniac who can hear it through the walls and finds it kind of comforting as he works into the night in his room

• It's always a dishes war in this house until Cait, the youngest of the bunch, has to go mom mode and make a chore chart to make sure the house stays functional

• Viktor has a soft spot for slow dancing with Jayce

• Jayce and Viktor ended up getting together after Jayce came into the lab one slow Thursday, made too many stupid heat related jokes and dropped a godawful pickup line. It only worked because Viktor said yes out of equal parts frustration towards Jayce and towards the stupid calculations he couldn't figure out how to reduce the heat transfer on his prototype. The rest is history though

• NO VIKTOR IS NOT DYING HERE this is an AU everything is happy and gay it's fine, but Viktor is an amputee. Doesn't stop him from driving crazy though, much to someone's chagrin

• No one here can keep plants alive. No one. Not Cait, not Vi, not Jayce, not Viktor. The succulent death tally is above 15 at this point.

--

you know what fuck it here's som Cait and Vi headcanons since they're in the same

household as well

• Caitlyn and Vi are in their junior year of university

• Cait's studying criminal law or forensics I haven't decided yet sorry saying she's a police just kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth

• Caitlyn's a trust fund kid what can I say, but it hasn't gone to her head for the most part

• Vi's pursuing bachelor's in social work (HMmmMMM i wonder how jinx fits in here) but she also coaches boxing and other martial arts on the side for money

• They share the master bed/bath in the house they're renting since they told Jayce and Viktor they'd been in a relationship longer than the two had

• Vi's a sucker for trashy/smutty romance novels and Caitlyn will never stop teasing her about that

[pascalpanic]

so i read this scenario on reddit and i thought it would be a cute and fluffy fic idea if you want to write it :)

one of the Pedro boys (i was thinking frankie or marcus moreno but you can put any one of them that you feel like would fit the story) lands himself in the hospital and the reader visits him often cause they’re friends. they notice that every time they visit, his heart rate monitor speeds up, like not enough to cause alarm but enough to be noticeable, and that’s how she finds out that he likes her and they decide to date (after he gets out of hospital)

Appendicitis (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Summary: ^^

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: talk of being ill, vomit, pain, lots of talk of hospitals and that being a major setting, Frankie is a dad, language

A/N: welcome back to Josie’s quest to clean her inbox! This idea was so precious!! I hope you guys like it!!

Frankie is in fucking agony. Never has he felt something as painful as this, never has such pain radiated through his body so intensely that he has no choice but to vomit out his stomach’s contents.

He spends the day at home, occupying his daughter as best he can while he’s in such suffering. He figures that maybe it’s just really bad gas cramping or constipation. Marisol plays quietly, at her daddy’s request, watching her favorite Disney movies on the couch while nuzzled into his side. Frankie has never been so grateful to get her into bed at the end of the day.

After a full day of the pain, and realizing that it wasn’t going away no matter how many painkillers he took, Frankie gave in around midnight. Lying in his bed, skin turning gray and the pain now decisively in his right side, Frankie called you.

After a few rings, you picked up. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hi.” His voice sounds agonized. “How much do you charge for babysitting again?” He asks, the strain clear.

You’re confused, pushing the phone closer to your ear and thinking it might be the distance that makes him sound so odd. “Uh, you’re my friend, so free. You need me to take Mari?” You ask him.

He nods. “Yeah; how much for like a week though? I don’t want to impose though, and-“

His voice sounds terrible. “Frankie. Shut up. A week? What’s wrong? I can take Marisol for as long as you need, but I gotta know what’s going on.”

Frankie is quiet before he grunts softly in pain. “I think my appendix might be fucked up. It hurts like fucking hell. Mari’s asleep, I don’t wanna wake her or anything, but could you-“

You cut him off once more, sitting bolt upright. “I’m on my way over. Do you think you can hang on until I get there? I can drive you to the hospital, or we’ll get one of the boys.”

“That sounds good,” Frankie agrees. “Fuckin’ ambulances are so expensive.”

You chuckle softly. “Hang in there, Fish, okay? I’m gonna call Will, see if he can drive you and I’ll stay with Mari. How’s that?”

Marisol loves you. There’s no better solution in Frankie’s eyes: she behaves better for you than she does for him. She’ll be in good hands, happy for as long as he needs to be in the hospital healing. “Perfect. God, you’re a fucking angel. Don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve better than me,” you snort as you pull on a hoodie and slip on some shoes. “I’m gonna call Will. You got this, Fish. Distract yourself. I’ll send you updates.”

When you arrive at the Morales household, Will’s truck is already in the driveway. He lives closer, so it makes sense. Be quiet and don’t wake Mari, you remember as you slip off your shoes and head up the stairs of Frankie’s home. It’s quiet, unsurprising for this time of night, and you know Mari is a light sleeper. Frankie would never want to wake her at this hour.

Wandering into his room, you find Will standing next to the bed and an incredibly worn-looking Frankie. His skin holds barely any color, his face almost green in nausea. You rush to his side. “Frankie, holy shit,” you exclaim in a loud whisper, taking his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I will be if Miller mans up and gets me out of this bed,” he says, followed by a chuckle with no humor.

Will sighs. He’s wearing pajamas too, looking as exhausted as you are. Frankie groans as he hears Mari’s tiny voice over the baby monitor. “Fuck. You’re staying with her, Will’s bringing me?” He clarifies, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes.

Nodding, you squeeze his hand. “Give me directions quickly and I’ll go get her. You gotta sit up first, Frankie,” you reassure him.

He squeezes your hand back tight and sits up, his face contorting in pain. There’s a flush of redness to his cheeks, and it makes him look more human for a moment until it fades again. “She won’t fall back asleep unless she’s in this bed with you. She needs the attention. Uh, food is in the fridge, you know emergency shit,” he says, with surprising coherence for the pain he’s in.

You nod and ruffle Frankie’s soft bedhead. “Benny- fuck,” you wince, knowing the Miller brothers hate being mixed up. Somehow, even with their distinct personalities, you do it all the time. “Will. Send me updates,” you remind him as you stand. “And you, Francisco,” you murmur and press a kiss to his sweat-beaded forehead, “get some strong pain meds and get better for me and Mari.” You smile softly and walk out of the room.

The room next to Frankie’s is beautiful, a sage green paint and lots of woodland creatures painted on the walls by Frankie’s surprisingly artistic hands. There’s a crib covered by a creamy white canopy and the little girl pokes her head up, tilting to the side in confusion as she sees you.

It’s not fear, of course. Mari loves you, absolutely adores you in fact. She’s just… confused. Her little brain can tell it’s the middle of the night. “Where’s Daddy?” She asks, making uppy arms at you.

You walk over to her crib, picking her up and kissing her head. “Daddy’s got a tummyache, cutie,” you tell her and tickle her tummy gently, making her giggle and bury her tiny face in your chest. “He’s gonna go see the doctor and get it all fixed up, okay? You and I are gonna have so much fun,” you assure her, and she giggles again.

You can hear two sets of feet, slowly moving. “Let’s go give Daddy a kiss goodbye, okay?” Mari nods and rubs her little eyes.

Frankie’s got an arm around Will’s shoulders in the hall, looking absolutely agonized. He smiles a little as he sees you and his baby. “Hey, patita,” he chuckles. He dubbed her duckling from the soft tufts of fluff on her head as a baby. “Be good while I’m gone.”

Mari nods and puts a hand on either side of Frankie’s sweating face, making a little pout and giving him a kiss. “Love you, Daddy,” she says, a yawn overtaking her tiny face.

“Love you too,” he nods and looks up at you. “I owe you.”

“Friends don’t owe each other,” you shake your head. “Now get your a… butt to the hospital, Morales,” you tell him and pat Will on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

He nods at you and the two men shuffle along through the house until they can get Frankie into the car and on his way to (hopefully) sedation and a cure.

Yawning again, Mari’s big brown eyes look up at you from where you hold her on your hip. “Snack?” She asks you, pointing towards the kitchen.

Her little voice and tiny, pudgy fingers are too much. “I suppose. Only because we’re having special girls’ time,” you tease and boop her nose. Setting her on the counter, you grab some cubes of cheese and some berries, which you make sure are in small pieces.

Mari’s content to eat her snacks with you, and you can see her growing sleepier again as the plate empties out. “Sleepy?” You ask her, and she nods. “Alright, cutie pie,” you sigh and lift her, holding her to your chest as she wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your torso. “Do you want me to cuddle with you?” You ask.

She nods. “Gotta snuggle for late sleepies. Daddy says that.”

The words melt your heart. Frankie’s always been so good with her, so warm and skilled and precious. It only makes your crush on the man grow every time his little girl babbles about how much she loves her daddy. “Does he?”

She nods. “Daddy sings for me.”

Frankie singing Marisol to sleep. The idea melts your heart. You need in on that. “What does he sing to you?” You ask. “What’s your favorite song that daddy sings to you?”

She thinks for a moment as you sit on the edge of the bed, allowing her to clamber off your lap and into the cozy king-sized bed. “Rocket Man.” It’s hard to decipher in her baby-talk, but you get it.

“He sings that for you?” You ask as you get under the covers, into the blankets that are still warm from Frankie’s body heat, that smell like his cologne.

Mari snuggles into your chest, and nods softly. “Can you sing Rocket Man?”

“Of course,” you nod and trace little circles into the toddler’s back, singing the Elton John song to her in a soft voice. It doesn’t take long, now that she’s in her daddy’s bed and got a snack, for her to fall asleep. She snores softly, and you follow suit not too long after.

-

It did turn out that Frankie had appendicitis. The doctors weren’t entirely sure what caused it, but you and the Miller brothers rotated your time with Marisol at home and the hospital with Frankie, as his stay was painfully long for such an active man. Santiago video chatted often, but being out of town prevented him from physically seeing Fish.

It took him about a week to recover, and that time was mostly spent napping or watching the television in his room. He’d bullshit with the guys or you when you were around, and he especially loved the time of the afternoon every day where one of you brought Marisol to see him.

Usually it was just you or one of the Millers who stayed in the room with him. The other two either stayed with Marisol or got to stay at home and rest for themselves. It was a lucky day when you and Benny got to both be with Frankie for a while, telling stories and laughing. It was your turn to be off-duty, but all you wanted from your free time was to be with the man.

Your presence has always made Frankie’s heart rate a little faster. It’s always made his palms a little clammy, and his pants a little tighter sometimes. At least now he can attribute it to the pain.

Every time his eyes catch yours, his heart monitor gets a little louder. It’s odd, but you shrug it off. It can’t mean anything. It’s just your Frankie. After an hour or so of spending time with the guys, you run to get fast food for the three of you. While you’re away, you receive a text from Benny.

Benny Boy: you’re fucking with his head, bro

You: what?

Benny Boy: the heart rate monitor is nearly silent right now. every time frankie looks at you it spikes, don’t tell me you haven’t been noticing that

You: do you want nuggets or a burger?

You: thats ridiculous, Benny.

Benny Boy: always nuggets. but seriously, his heart rate is at like 54 right now, he’s just chilling and kind of dozed off. let’s check it when you come back.

You: be prepared for the most boring science experiment ever. also, what dip do you want?

After you receive your bulging bags of food, stuffed from both Benny’s and Frankie’s massive appetites, you return to the hospital.

You: walking in. pulse status?

Benny: 60. he’s a little more awake now.

As you enter the room, Frankie turns to you and grins. “Hey. What did you get?” He asks.

You plop the bags on the small table overhanging Frankie’s bed and grin. “Just your usual order. I know what you like,” you shrug as you unpack the food.

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 77

Smiling at the rate of Frankie’s heart, more than you should really, you sit down back next to Benny and the three of you eat your food. It’s somewhat quiet, the chatter dying as you devour the fast food, savoring the grease and salt.

After everyone is finished, you stand and clean up the garbage, tossing it all away. You sit back down on Frankie’s bedside. “So, macho man. How’s the pain?” You ask, your fingers tracing his good side.

Beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 86

He shrugs. “It hurts like a bitch, and they said it’s gonna keep hurting like a bitch.”

“Poor baby,” you chuckle, cupping the side of his face and kissing his forehead softly.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 96

Benny groans and stands. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.” He smacks your arm as he walks past, as if rubbing in the evidence he’s found. “And then take a walk, I think.”

You’re still seated at Frankie’s side, on the inflatable hospital mattress. “Oh Benjamin,” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Why’d he leave so quick?”

You shrug, though you know the answer. “Who knows? Benny can’t even predict himself,” you chuckle. Frankie’s hand rests over his chest. You slide your hand over his torso and lace your fingers through his until you’re holding it. You can feel his heart thumping steadily against it. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 104

He smiles. “I’m lucky I have you.”

You sigh softly as you look up at the heart rate monitor again. “I gotta say, you have a really high resting rate,” you say nonchalantly, as if you believe it.

Frankie’s face warms. “I, uh-“

“I’m kidding, Frankie,” you mumble softly to him, smiling a little. “I really like you, and I think that monitor is helping me know you like me too. When you get out of here, can we maybe go on a date some time?”

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep. HR: 112

Nodding enthusiastically, those floppy curls move with his head. “I would love that,” he tells you with a beaming smile. “God, have you been able to tell all day?” He asks as he looks up at the monitor, his ears burning with heat as he reads the pulse rate. It’s embarrassingly high.

“Yeah,” you finally admit and smile down at him. “But it’s cute. And it makes me feel all warm inside because I finally know you like me too.”

Big brown eyes stare up at you with all of the love in the world. “If I wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, I’d kiss you right now,” he promises. “But that’ll have to wait.”

“Yes it will,” you nod and kiss his forehead again, easing him back against the mattress he’d lifted up from slightly. “Now I’m going to go find Benny, and you slow down that heart rate,” you tease and ruffle his curls.

“I’m not gonna be able to slow it down with you around,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes slipping shut.

-

taglist:

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[ereawrites]

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process  the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.

[mxvladdy]

I have a prompt idea! The Brothers reacting to an MC that can regenerate after they die. Someone stabbed them? The wound will close in a bit. Did they fall from a high place and their body shattered? It’s all good, they’re body’ll just snap everything back into place as they’re conscious. We’re they poisoned? They’ll treat it like a stomach bug and be fine the next day. Funny part is MC could tell them the worst ways they died during their childhood in a lighthearted way which makes things more disturbing, especially since demon threats against them won’t work.

Ok first time I read this prompt I had a good laugh bc all I could think about was an MC that made that little squeaking noise those rubber chickens make when they inflate every time they regenerated lmaoooo. Could you imagine the pavlovian response all the brothers get if they hear a squeak? Like Lucifer would be trying to sleep and Cerberus finds one of his old chew toys and the fear it brings is legendary.

TW: Death, Blood, Injuries

Lucifer

When you first tell him he has no idea if it was a crude joke or not. You are so blasé about something that should traumatize you. He hates how you snort at his every threat. What good is blackmail if you don’t go for it?

He does not believe you at first. Just another little human talking big trying to impress him. He would keep a keen eye on you too, making sure they have no reason to get even so much of a scrape on their knee. Believe you or not he doesn’t need this program to fail. Then Belphie happened. Seeing your lifeless body made so many things happen in his mind he felt physically ill. He hadn’t felt like crying so hard since Lilith…

And then you sit up and crack your spine, like you were waking up from a nap instead of getting up after being thrown from the second story.

He-is relieved, and terrified. Were humans supposed to do that? He doesn't remember reading this particular ability in his father’s schematics. He believes you now nonetheless.

But he still doesn’t let you just go getting hurt whenever you feel like it.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head firmly. He is unfazed by your cute little pout and huffing.

“Lotan is friendly!” You try again pushing the form back at him defiantly. Lucifer picks it up again against his better judgment and scoffs. Friendly, if Lotan is friendly then Cerberus was a saint. “Come on what’s the worst that can happen? I’m out of school for a day or two if things get dicey.” You plead leaning up and over his desk. Ugh. He rubs at his temple in annoyance.

“The fact that you think skipping a few days of school because you became fish food as a minor hindrance terrifies me.” He drolls but picks up his feathered quill irregardless. You squeal in delight and hug him fiercely, managing to pull a smile out of him. They grab the liability agreement and run out the door already shouting for Levi to hurry up before Lucifer changes his mind. He chuckles leaning back in his chair. Fine, if they are happy… let it be on their head if it severs. Wait- could they regenerate from that? “Shit.”

Mammon

He believes you. Not because he takes their word for it but the first night on duty as your caretaker you fall out of his balcony window.

One minute they are having a heated argument about his unwanted duties, him hovering over you while you lean up against the railing refusing to break eye contact. Next thing he knows the old stone gives and you both tumble.

He has wings and catches himself. You- not so much. He can still hear the sickening crunch of bone meeting stone when he lays awake at night. The first thing he worries about is how much trouble he would be in with Lucifer that he failed again. He's a blubbering mess over your body swearing he would do better if they would just get up. Whatever you want it’s theirs if you just open their eyes.

And of course, you do. He won’t admit to the scream that erupts from his mouth when you ask him to swear on that deal or they are going to Lucifer as soon as they can feel their legs. He agrees readily, glad his hide is saved for now.

When you two become closer he figures why not make some money off of this little quirk. Enter the troublesome duo of grifters.

You whimper, hamming it up for the terrified looking demon glazing between your broken leg and Mammon wiggling his ring heavy fingers at them. “Look what ya did to my human.” He tuts. “What, ya don’t look both ways when riding.” He kicks at the upended bike by his feet. The demon sputters swearing that they did and neither of them had been in the way.

“Mammon~” His human sniffles flashing him a teary eyed pout. To the other lesser demon it looked like a plea, but Mammon knew it was a warning that your leg would start mending soon.

“Who do you think is gonna pay for this?” He goes in for the kill waving his free arm down at his human’s prone form. “You want Lucifer or Diavolo ta hear about this? Ya know this human is special to us.” The demon blanches and shakes its head. Terrified it threw its wallet at the avatar of greed and bolted leaving their bike and bag behind. Waiting for the demon to be completely out of earshot Mammon turns with a dazzling smile. “Damn,” He whistles, helping his human back to their feet. Already the bone and skin had mended leaving only an ugly red stain on the fabric of their uniform. “I think you just moved up the ranks of my most favorite things. Gonna rival Goldie soon if this picks up...” He opens the wallet and pockets the handful of cash in it, tossing the worn fabric to the street floor.

“Hey.” Mammon looks down at you. You were now scowling eying his pant pocket. “Don’t forget your side of the bargain.” He chuckles raising his hands in defeat.

“Alright- Alright. One stupidly expensive ice cream coming up.” He can't hide his blush when you hug his arm close to your chest, excitedly leading him back to the main street.  

Leviathan

Oh like in that one anime???

But really, he is the first to take your word for it. Finds it kinda neat. Not that he is going to test it. Who would he have to play with if you were just yanking his chain?

He listens to absolutely spine chilling tales of your little “mishaps” as a child. But you brush off his concern. Don’t worry about it! Makes for great stories. To tell right?

Of course, when he sees it first hand he forgets for a moment that you would eventually feel better. He left his tank open one night to clean out some debris gunking up the water pump. Damn things get stalled so frequently now. He turns his back for a moment to get a tool and the next he smells human blood in the water!

He scoops you out of the water before whatever fiendish creatures he holds in his aquarium can take a bite and gets you to solid ground. He is panicking hardcore, he doesn’t feel a pulse. He sees that they smashed their head, blood pooling sluggishly down your temple. You must have slipped on the wet tank edge and hit their head.

Just when he is about to name another Henry in your honor you pop up spitting out whatever water that had gotten into their lungs. They flash him a knowing smirk at his red-rimmed eyes and joke that they have a killer headache.

Nurse Levi to the rescue!

Levi checks in on you again, leaning over the edge of his tank. “D-don’t you move a muscle!” He shouts down to you. Squinting he sees a hand emerging from the mound of pillows and blankets inside his tub-bed. you shoot him a quick thumbs up before turning your attention back to his giant flat screen. “You sure you don’t need Barbatos or some pain meds?” He frets. He was close to just giving up on the pump and coming to take care of his miraculously healed guest.

“Levi I’m fine! Not even sleepy.” Your muffled reply wafts up to him. You push down some of the blankets to give him a relaxed smile. “See not even a scar.” You show him the side of their head that had been cut. Sure enough, nothing was there but a smoothed patch of skin. It lessens some of his panic, but barely. He knew internal damage was still a thing to humans.

Finishing up quickly with the pump he slithers back down to your side sheepishly. He had apologized what felt like a thousand times, but he was ready to drop a couple thousand more if need be. His looming causes you to look up from the anime you were watching. The flashing blue and yellow lights illuminate their calm gaze. None of the panic he felt seemed to transfer to you. “Want to join me?” You pat at the covers. “Waters warm.” You chuckle at their own joke pulling the blue covers down and away to give him room to join them.

“I-if you’re sure.” He stammers wiping at his face to hide his flush. You nod, patting the empty side again. He joins you snuggling close, he runs a hand where a gruesome scar had been not even an hour again. You nuzzle in close. His slightly cool fingers felt great on your skin before turning back to the screen completely nonplussed.

What a weird human...

Satan

Much like Lucifer doesn’t believe you. He has never heard or read about humans being able to do that. Will not believe them and gets annoyed by the “fake” stories you kept insisting were real.

The fact that a single human has such a vividly morbid imagination fascinates him, but he won’t divulge in your little fantasy. There is only so much foolishness he can deal with.

He forgets about it after a while and you stop bringing it up. If he doesn’t believe you so be it, he’ll find out one day surely, you aren’t exactly the most careful with your body. When he does find out it about does him in.

He had warned them of climbing on his bookshelves. He doesn’t have them tethered down or stable. He doesn’t need them to be. His shelves would never even dare to topple on him. But this weak little human takes his room as a personal jungle gym, climbing up him and his things for a book. They could just ask but Devil’s forbid they did something halfway intelligent.

You hear him fretting through the fog coating your senses. His fingers shakily poking at your crushed abdomen and legs all bent akimbo clearing broken. “Don’t be dead-please don’t do this.” He hisses about ready to use magic to put you back together again. You pull your strength and grab his hand before he can interfere with your natural healing ability.

He starts, green eyes looking down relieved and amazed at you. “Don’t.” You croak, already feeling your lungs and rib cage healing. “I’m good.”  

“You’re good!” He shouts voice cracking in exasperation. “I’ve seen the aftermath of Beel’s feeding rampages that have looked better!” You snort pushing his hands away to rest up on your elbows. Eh- he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“I look like a chewed-up burger huh?” You joke laughing at his stunted and slightly disgusted look. “I’ll be ok, just help me up? My legs are always tingly after healing.” Wordlessly he follows your instructions amazed at how well you are handling all of this. Were you actually human? You stand on wobbly legs bending and popping your joints. You give yourself a quick check over “Tada!” You give him two very bloody thumbs ups once you see that you are back to normal. “It’s all good!”

He shakes his head bewildered. “I-if you say so.” Satan wrinkles his nose looking at the mess of your clothes and his room. “Go wash up. I’ll get you a new set of clothes and work on this mess.” You nod already heading to his slightly cleaning bathroom. His warm hand wraps around your wrist catching you mid stride. “Don’t tell anyone about this ok?” He pleads. If anyone knew that he had been so foolish, he would never live it down.

You nod miming zipping your lips. “Betcha believe me know huh?”

He rolls his eyes turning to the task at hand. “Don’t push your luck, or next time I’ll leave you under a shelf.”    

Asmodeus

Believes you. You have never lied before so why do it now over something so trivial. Humans die all the time and if you say you can't then ok. He asks tons of questions about how you found out about this.

He doesn't like the stories you tell but doesn't find it off-putting how easily you talk about it. He's been around the block with mortals and they cope in all sorts of ways.

He cuddles you and coos over every story you tell then shoots off hundreds of compliments about your complexion. It's amazing how well your skin holds up to all the foolish actions of your past.

Even though he trusts you and your stories he still is super careful with you. You are not going to get hurt on his watch, absolutely not! Will patch you up if you need it all while gripping about your foolishness.

But accidents happen, and even the most watchful demon trips up sometimes.

Asmo tuts over you rubbing at the potion burning away at your flesh. "I told you the maroon bottle love." You hiss as the antiseptic hits muscle.

"Maroon and burgundy look the same, bite me!" He clicks his tongue and bites off the argument brewing within him. How can you not see how different the two colors are. You grouch some more while he works on getting the rest of his potion off your cheek. You had just wanted to use one of his acne toner, the one that smelled like cucumber and rose. He was preoccupied with his eyeliner but told you to just grab it from his shelf. He had a lot of bottles and a lot of them were definitely not for human use. 

You unfortunately just happened to pick one of them. The one you nabbed was a toner built for his stronger skin. It ate away at your cheeks and flesh of your palm on contact. It's burning and tingling making you yelp in surprise. Luckily for you, Asmo acted fast coming up from behind and knocking the toner-soaked cotton pad from your reddening fingers. He curses at you the whole way to his bathroom. Done with your right cheek and hand he nods in approval, seeing your flesh already knitting back together. "At least you have lovely bone structure. Ahhh~ I'm jealous!" He pokes a nail at the exposed bone of your cheekbone. The mending muscles and nerves almost growing over his nail before he could pull away. You quirk a brow.

"Want them? I'm pretty sure I could regrow my jawline before anybody would notice. " You shrug taking the washcloth from him to dap at your left cheek. Asmo laughs, it was a ridiculously tempting offer after all.

"Could you?" He taps at his own chin in thought. You glance back at him and sits on the toilet. In theory, you probably could. Hadn't happened...yet.  

"Ye- just give me a heads up first? And maybe some good booze to knock me out." You say only half-joking. Asmo nods eagerly, twirling a lock of soft tawny hair. He might take you up on the offer.  

Beelzebub

He doesn't want to know and he never wants to find out. He just likes you too much to see you get hurt :(. It gets to the point where you cannot bring any past stories of incidents (no matter how funny you think they are). If a story comes out be prepared to be carried everywhere by this gentle giant. If you won't cease your foolishness then he will.

Though he probably should have heard a few of the stories. Mostly the ones about poisons and inedible things you use to eat. A lot of his world revolves around food and he loves to share it with you.

He never heard you complain about the foods he had you try with him. It wasn't until Simeon and Luke tagged along did he learn the awful truth that he had been poisoning you almost every time you two went out.  

Takes him forever to get out of his head about it. You are clearly fine and never brought it up because you just loved spending time bonding with him.

You find him in the ally behind the restaurant. His massive form curled in on itself from where he sat. "Why didn't you tell me?" He rumbles hearing you approach to stand next to him. "I could have killed you." You sit squat next to him resting your arms on your knees.

"I mean...if we are keeping count it would be dead about eight times over by this point." You meant it to be funny but he groans in anguish pulling at his hair. You grab his fists and pry them from his scalp. "Hey! Hey!" You pat his knuckles, eyes filled with concern. "I'm still here right, still kicking and eating all these awesome foods, don't worry. Please?"  You can tell your words do not calm him but he doesn't pull from your grasp either. "If you are curious, all the foods that would have done me dirty just gave me some bad cramps and gas for the evening. Nothing a tum and hot tea couldn't fix." You fill the air with useless chatter, all while stroking his knuckles.

You really wish that Luke hadn't said anything. Simeon had read the room, his neat brown brows raising in astonishment as you sank into the meal Beel bought for you. But he otherwise stayed silent tucking into his own meal without a fuss. You couldn't completely blame Luke though. He was young and just looking out for you. Though, he-well- both of you could have handled it better. With him screaming and you screaming, it was a recipe for disaster.

Beel rises a few minutes later rubbing at his burning eyes. "Are you sure you are ok?" He checks in with you once more. You nod perking up as you see him grunt in acceptance. "Just let me know next time you can't eat something."

"But it tastes good!" You pout. He frowns not budging from his spot until he sees you sigh in defeat and agree. No more purposely poisoning yourself just for munchies. "Fine-but you are just saying that to get extra portions."  

Belphegor

He finds out when he kills your dumbass for believing him. It totally harshed his vibe.

Here he was getting an amazing monologue, reveling in his eldest's brothers' anguish and look of anger from the prince. He was ready to give his final performance and hopefully wipe the floor with that red-headed bastard plans to "commingle"

He tossed your "lifeless" body from him, taking a sick amount of pleasure in the way your body flopped down the stairs. He notices how the other brothers seem completely unfazed by your corpse at their feet.

Huh? Perhaps they didn't understand the actions he did. Or maybe they truly have given into the demons they had become. He stops his tirade only when he watches Asmo bend down and poke at your cheek. He didn't look sad, just merely annoyed. Like you were taking too long to get up.

But that is impossible. You would never get up again... 

Mammon rolls his eyes at his youngest brother's actions. Honestly, he loved the little edge lord, but this was ridiculous. He had a racket to go check on. His hand drifts down slowly to his pocket. If he just angled it right he could probably check his phone without looking rude. He makes eye contact with Satan and jerks his head exasperatedly at Lucifer and Belphegor going at it. The blonde shakes his head and shrugs. Slowly he inches closer so Mammon can go on his phone without getting caught. Covering for Mammon Satan looks around the room feigning interest.

Beelzebub and Leviathan seemed mildly more attentive to what was going on than him. The latter of the two eating it up like an arch in an anime, while the former was trying desperately to placate his twin. Asmodeus on the other hand was having none of this. He plops down next to your body turning your head to face him. He checks you over quietly ignoring the storm exploding out of his elder brother and the rest of the gang. "Honestly darling," He strokes the bridge of your nose, feeling the bone and cartilage shifting back into place beneath his finger. "is this a good time to ask if I can have your jawline?" He sees the corner of your lips twitch.  He leans in and whispers in your ear. "How long are you going to play dead?"

"Am I boring you, brother?" Asmo glances up from his position over your head. Belphegor looks down at his face apoplectic with rage at being ignored. "And I see you on your phone Mammon!"

"Shove it! I got shit to do!"

Asmo gets to his feet dusting off his pants and ruffles. He shrugs up at Belphie who was doing a great interpretation of Lucifer when angry. He was so much like Lucifer it was scary sometimes. "Sorry honey! Just check on my bestie."

Belphie snorts making his way down to the first floor. "Just checking I killed-"

You pop up grunting loudly as your spine reconnects. "Help your bestie up?" You raise a hand for Asmo who happily takes it. You turn your back to a dumbfounded Belphie and Lucifer, both not understanding what just happened.

"About time." Mammon sighs pocketing his phone. "I got some idiots we can swindle out of some grimm."

"Oi!" Satan butts in cutting Mammon off. "You had your turn! I have some spells they said they would help me test out."

You grin, not fighting it as the two tug at you like a toy between toddlers.

"Enough!" The two jump away from you at Lucifer's roar. You squeak in surprise when a firm leather-gloved hand spins you around so you could stand face to face with a fully shifted Lucifer. "You!" He runs his hands over you in disbelief. "How..." Your first conversation with him comes back to mind.

I can't die so try to threaten me with something else next time K?

"Would someone tell me WHAT is going on and why they are still breathing!" Belphie pushes through to you and Lucifer.

Beel grabs him up before he could get his claws into you again, stroking his dark hair like you would an angry cat. "It's a long story..."